CHAPTER NINE
“Would you call me Rose?”
“Absolutely.”
“And just for a bit, would you pretend I’m the most wonderful woman you’ve ever met?”
James chuckled. “I’d be happy to.”
Rose sighed with pleasure.
She was pressed to the wall, his long, muscular body crushed to her own, and she’d never endured anything quite so marvelous. He was nibbling at her nape, goose bumps cascading down her arms. Her skin was tingling, her pulse racing.
She was trying to figure out what she was doing, where they were headed, but she had no idea.
She didn’t know him, didn’t particularly like him, and he’d thrust himself into her path with the worst of intentions, but their encounter on the road the previous night had altered her. She felt attached to him in ways she shouldn’t be, felt that he understood and cared about her, which was nonsense. Where he was concerned, her emotions were now a jumble of confused yearning and regret.
He was a cad and a bounder, the exact sort of man she should have avoided like the plague, and normally would have. But she’d attended a supper with Stanley, and as they’d returned home, her cheeks had ached from all her fake smiling.
During the lengthy evening of socializing, she’d had an enormous amount of time to ponder her situation.
She’d agreed to remain at Summerfield for one month, and gradually, it had dawned on her that she could use the interval to rest and regroup. She’d told James that she considered herself to be on holiday, and she’d meant it.
She’d never gone on holiday before. As a girl, she’d been a year-round boarder at school, and as an adult, she’d never earned enough money to frivolously travel. After drinking more and more wine, an ember of excitement had begun to burn.
There was no need to cower in her room, moping and bemoaning her fate. Mr. Oswald had insisted she was his honored guest, so why not act like it? She’d never stayed in such a fine house, had never been fawned over or spoiled. Why not indulge? Why not treat herself? Why not?
In a month, when she packed her bag and trotted down the road, she was sure—wherever her destination—it would never be a place so grand as Summerfield.
So…she planned to enjoy herself. She would eat and dance and revel at every party that was hosted. And she was going to misbehave with a very handsome, very remarkable libertine.
It was a reckless decision, and—as he’d mentioned—she’d had too much wine and was likely making bad choices, but she’d proceed anyway.
Once she departed Summerfield, her life would return to the drudgery of work, and there would be no opportunity for flirtation. If she resumed teaching, she wouldn’t be allowed to marry. She’d have to remain a spinster. So if she stole some kisses, in the dark of night, in the privacy of her own bedchamber, where was the harm? Who would ever know?
He abandoned her nape to finally capture her lips in a torrid kiss that was wild and exhilarating and much too thrilling to be refused.
She wrapped her arms around his waist and pulled him nearer, and he appeared to relish her boldness. He groaned low in his throat and leaned into her, his firm torso crushed to hers in a way that was invigorating and arousing.
“You have too many clothes on,” he murmured.
“Well, I’m not taking any of them off.”
“How about just a few of them?”
“How about I leave them right where they are?”
“What fun would that be?”
He started kissing her again, his tongue sliding in and out of her mouth in a stirring rhythm that made her nipples throb and her womb clench. He was touching her all over, his busy hands gliding across her shoulders, her waist and hips.
He stroked in broader and broader circles until he was caressing her buttocks, holding her loins to his, and the feeling was indescribable, like nothing she could have imagined or anticipated.
Her limbs were rubbery, her knees weak. She could barely keep her balance, and if he hadn’t been gripping her so tightly, she’d have collapsed to the floor in a stunned heap.
It occurred to her that—in her drive to engage in a dalliance—she might not have fully grasped the significance of what she’d set in motion. She’d viewed herself as worldly and mature, that she could use him to learn the secret details of amour, but she wasn’t prepared for the unrelenting onslaught. She was about to beg him to do whatever he wished to her—and damn the consequences.
There was a sofa next to them, and he drew away from her and lie down. He tugged her down too, so in a thrice she was stretched out on top of him.
He was still kissing her and hadn’t stopped for a single second. As the embrace went on and on, the temperature of the encounter spiraled out of control. His hands were on her bottom again, and he was flexing into her, the fabric of her skirt the only barrier separating them. Each brush of his loins sent shocks of delight coursing through her entire being.
“Why are you moving like that?” she managed to ask.
“Because it feels wonderful.”
“Yes, it does.”
“It’s a preliminary step toward mating.”
She froze. “We’re not mating.”
“No,” he hastily said. “We’re simply enjoying ourselves.”
“We’re sinning, aren’t we?”
“Yes, but I never thought a bit of sin was such a bad thing. Not when it feels this good.”
She definitely agreed. The reason ministers complained so vociferously about carnal conduct had to be that they hated to have people discover the pleasure it elicited.
If maidens and spinsters had any idea of the ecstasy to be had, they’d ruin themselves with impunity. If females knew the truth, who could ever convince them to behave?
“If Vicar Oswald could see us now,” she mused, “he’d have an apoplexy.”
“He’d have us dragged to church and whipped.”
“And guess what?”
“What?”
“I wouldn’t be sorry!”
They giggled like unruly children, and she couldn’t remember the last time she’d been so free or happy. The insight disturbed her. It made her think that perhaps she’d been unhappy but hadn’t realized it. It made her think she liked James Talbot more than she should, when she hadn’t planned to like him at all.
As their chortling waned, the kissing commenced again. He rolled them so she was on her side and wedged to the back of the sofa. Without her noticing, he’d unbuttoned the front of her dress. Cool air swept over her chest and was the first indication that skin was exposed, but she didn’t protest or order him to desist.
His sly fingers slipped inside her gown, slithered under corset and chemise to touch her breasts. The sensation was so arresting that she gasped aloud.
“Oh, my,” she murmured against his questing lips.
“Oh, my indeed. You have a knack for this, Rose.”
“Are my reactions natural then?”
“They’re very natural.”
“I like this so much. It’s not…abnormal?”
“No. It’s very, very normal. Why do you suppose it’s so soundly condemned? It’s so much fun, we might never leave this sofa.”
“A marvelous notion.”
“It certainly is.”
He pinched her nipple, rubbing it, squeezing it, as he deepened their kiss, as he held her even closer.
They’d finally crossed a boundary she shouldn’t have allowed, and she meant to call a halt. She really did, but then he undid the remainder of the buttons on her dress and tugged down the sleeves so her upper arms were bared.
To her astonishment, he nuzzled a trail to her cleavage and sucked a nipple into his mouth. He nursed at it as a babe would have, but there was nothing innocent about the conduct. It felt wicked and delectable, and she pulled him even nearer to urge him on. For an eternity, he suckled and played, and she let him proceed, being too overwhelmed to resist.
Eventually, he slowed and ceased his torment, and she could hardly keep from begging him to continue on until…until…
She couldn’t describe the end she sought.
He smiled, and there was warmth and affection in his gaze. She was shocked by how it washed over her, by how she reveled in it. She suffered a huge wave of her own affection, and clearly, there was a fondness developing between them that she hadn’t expected to arise.
“Why did we stop?” she asked.
“We shouldn’t go any farther.”
“There’s more to it?”
“Yes, quite a bit more.”
“Show me.”
“I don’t think you actually want that.”
“Maybe I do,” she brazenly said. “Maybe it’s exactly what I want.”
“It just might be, but I’m not about to give it to you.”
“You’re too cruel, James, to toy with me like this.”
“Yes,” he laughed, “cruelty is my middle name.”
“I thought this was merely a trifle, but it seems like it was more profound than that.”
“It was—because we share a heightened attraction.”
“Why would we?”
“It’s an unanswerable question.”
“A mystery of the universe?”
“Yes.”
They were silent, staring. He was studying her as if she’d disturbed him, as if she’d turned out to be entirely different from what he’d imagined.
“What now?” she inquired.
“I should probably go.” But he didn’t move.
“I feel strange—as if I’ve been scraped raw on the inside.”
“It’s desire rattling you.”
“Desire?”
“Yes. A woman can experience very potent desire. It’s a secret that’s supposed to keep you females from misbehaving.”
“And I’ve definitely misbehaved.” She pondered for a moment, then asked, “Am I still…?”
“Chaste? Yes, you’re still a maiden.”
“How would I change the situation? Mr. Oswald said it was a physical act and that he couldn’t perform it anymore.”
“It is very physical,” he agreed, but didn’t expound.
“What does it entail?”
“I might demonstrate sometime,” he cockily retorted, “if you’re very, very nice to me.”
“Vain oaf,” she scoffed.
“Yes, I am much too vain and much too dissolute to be with you like this.”
She shrugged. “I told you I’m on holiday. I’m trying every new thing I can.”
“Yes, but what you don’t realize is that an innocent frolic can swiftly lead to trouble you never intended.”
“I intended all that just happened. I practically begged you to proceed, remember?”
“Oh, yes, I remember.”
He kissed her very sweetly, very tenderly, and when he pulled away, he was smiling even more affectionately.
He sat up and stood, and she should have stood too, but she couldn’t. The room seemed off balance, as if the floor was crooked and she couldn’t find a straight spot.
“Promise me something,” he said.
“What?”
“If you discover you’re in the mood to try new things again, try them with me. I can’t have you pestering the stable boys.”
She laughed. “You are the worst.”
“I want you all to myself.”
“You talk as if I roll around with strange men everyday. This was a once in a lifetime occurrence, I assure you. Otherwise, I might begin to like it too much.”
“I’ve created a wanton! How marvelous.” He tapped a finger on the tip of her nose. “Let me explain about desire.”
“What?”
“It has to be assuaged. If it’s not, you’ll drive yourself batty.”
“You’re expecting me to be discomfited?”
“Yes, and it’s a dreadful bother.” He went to the door. “If you get too miserable, I’ll be happy to come back and alleviate your…problem.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
He grinned, and she did too, and they stared like two halfwits. A thousand comments swirled, and she was desperate to say the right parting remark, but she couldn’t figure out what it should be.
Finally, she murmured, “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For being kind. For showing me this. I didn’t know how it could be.”
“Now you do.”
“I feel like you opened a hidden door, and I peeked in at a different world.”
“We can walk through if you want. I can teach you more and more.”
“I can’t.”
“It was worth a shot to ask.”
“It was.”
“We’re a terrific match, you and I.”
“Yes, we are.”
“I hate to have all this unbridled passion go to waste.”
“It won’t be wasted. It will sizzle whenever I see you in the halls.”
“Then I’ll make it a point to bump into you often.”
He tarried, as if he couldn’t bear to leave, then he nodded.
“Goodnight, Rose.”
“Goodnight, James.”
“We’re a pair, aren’t we?”
“We definitely are.”
He slipped out, vanishing so quickly that he might never have been there at all. She couldn’t even hear his footsteps fading down the hall.
* * * *
“You spent time with her.”
“Yes.”
“You spoke at length.”
“Yes.”
Stanley glared at James, waiting for him to provide details, but he was maddeningly silent.
“And…?”
“And what?”
“Were you able to make any progress?”
“Are you asking if she’s been deflowered?”
“Yes. Don’t pretend to be surprised by my interest.”
“Trust me, I’m not surprised.”
“Have you pressed the issue?”
“No.”
“Then why were you with her?”
“I like her,” James said. “I like her very much. We had an enjoyable time together.”
“In her room.”
“Yes.”
“Alone.”
“Yes.”
“Yet you expect me to believe nothing happened?”
“I don’t care what you believe.”
“Ah,” Stanley mused. “So you did make some progress.”
“We chatted. That’s all.”
“Was any clothing removed?”
“No.”
“Buttons unbuttoned?”
“No.”
“You were in there for over an hour. Were you drinking tea?”
“Wine.”
“She had plenty at supper.”
“She had more with me.”
“It didn’t render her amorous? It didn’t lower inhibitions? Why couldn’t you take advantage?”
“I didn’t try,” James claimed, which was an outright lie.
They were in Stanley’s library, having a late night brandy. A bit earlier, Stanley had been astonished to see James sneak into her room, and he was irked by the discovery. He liked to know what went on under his roof.
The fact that James could dabble with Rose, that he had the youth and physical stamina to do so, made Stanley sick with envy. He hated being old and having his manly parts fail. He’d always been a masculine, virile fellow, and he couldn’t abide that he’d lost his ability and couldn’t fix the problem.
“Where are we in our bargain?” he asked.
“There is no bargain. We’re calling it off.”
“We are not.”
“We are.”
“If you refuse to proceed, where does that leave me?”
“Where you were before you ever spoke to Miss Peabody about her. You have to find another girl.”
“I have no desire to find another girl. Have you any idea how difficult it was to find Miss Ralston? I need someone who’s all alone, who has no family she can run to. I need someone who will do what I say.”
“I guess you picked wrong with her.”
“I doubt it. I have thirty days to get my way.”
“Only if I help you, and I’ve changed my mind.”
“Have you suddenly grown noble and decent?”
“No. I simply don’t want to participate. It was a stupid plan. I never should have agreed.”
“Will you give up your chance to learn about your parents?”
“Yes. I’m sure you wouldn’t have turned over any true information anyway.”
“What about the thousand pounds I promised you? That kind of money could take a man a far distance.”
James shrugged. “I have many contacts from my years in the army. I’ll stumble on an opportunity. I don’t have to rely on you.”
Stanley hid his reaction to the comment. It was his greatest fear that James might not need him any longer. Stanley was accustomed to having James on the premises and under his thumb. Though he’d initially fought Edwina’s demand to bring James to the estate, Stanley was glad he had.
James was smart and shrewd and interesting, loyal and faithful, the sort of boy any father would love to claim. Other men were fools by comparison. Just consider Lucas Drake.
“You’re not leaving for London, are you?” he said.
“I probably will. With our bargain cancelled, there’s no reason to remain.”
“What about Miss Ralston?”
“What about her?”
“You have a budding relationship with her. Wouldn’t you like to discover where it will lead?”
“There is no relationship.”
James pushed himself to his feet and headed for the door, and Stanley called to his retreating back, “What will Miss Ralston think when she hears you’ve departed?”
“She won’t think anything. We’re scarcely acquainted.”
But Stanley knew it was another lie.
Although James didn’t realize it, there was a peephole that looked directly into her bedchamber. Stanley could lurk in the dark in the rear stairwell and watch her.
He’d drilled the hole years earlier, during his third marriage, when his impotency had first begun to flare. He’d always enjoyed observing women as they undressed and pranced about, and he received an extra thrill from furtive surveillance.
At the start, it had seemed the perfect cure for what ailed him. It hadn’t worked, though, and the clandestine viewing left Stanley even more disgusted by his lack, because he came away with powerful desires he couldn’t slake. Yet despite how raw the experience, he was addicted to the activity and couldn’t stop.
He’d witnessed the entire encounter between James and Miss Ralston.
James could protest all he wanted, but he and Miss Ralston shared a hot, searing attraction. With a bit of maneuvering, it would blossom into a full-blown romance. James was too fascinated by her, and Stanley had to keep him at Summerfield, had to prevent him from going to London.
It was only a matter of time before James behaved precisely as Stanley was hoping. Deal or no deal, Miss Ralston would be ruined, and Stanley would get his child and his bride.
And…he’d get to see the affair unfold, right before his perverted, spying eyes.
* * * *
Oscar tugged on the reins of his gig and pulled his horse to a halt.
He was outside the gates to Summerfield, and down the long lane, the manor house glimmered in the moonlight. There was a lone candle glowing in an upstairs window, but other than that, the residence was shut down for the night.
He’d had supper with the neighbors, but he’d departed shortly after the meal was finished. His hosts had planned to let their daughter play the harpsichord, and Oscar didn’t feel—as vicar—that he should participate in such a frivolous endeavor. He’d slipped out as quickly as he could, leaving the other guests to the devil’s mischief.
Stanley had been present, Miss Ralston perched at his side like a faithful dog. She was very pretty, very pleasant, and Oscar had quietly studied her and seethed over how much people seemed to like her.
In Oscar’s opinion, she was a thief and interloper, sneaking in at the last minute to seize what should be Oscar’s. He had suffered through Stanley’s other marriages, the death of Stanley’s only son, the sad reality that no others had been birthed.
Oscar had begun to believe that Summerfield would eventually be his. He could practically see himself seated in the big chair at the desk in the library.
According to Stanley’s prior wife—who’d been crude and spoiled and very, very vocal about her unhappiness with Stanley—he was incapable of performing the marital act. Stanley was too proud to admit it, but Oscar knew the truth.
There was no way Stanley could sire a babe on Miss Ralston, and regardless of how he paraded her around, regardless of how he boasted their wedding was pending, no date had been set.
What did that mean?
Supposedly, Stanley was impatient to marry immediately, but one of Stanley’s cooks was extremely devout, and she regularly reported to Oscar on the goings-on in the manor. There had been no talk of Stanley’s wedding among the servants, no orders from Stanley to prepare for the celebration.
Why not? Why the delay? Wasn’t he in a hurry?
Oscar had once taunted Stanley that Miss Ralston would have to conceive by immaculate conception, and he hadn’t been joking. If Miss Ralston turned up with child, Stanley couldn’t have planted it. Oscar was sure of his facts and determined to prove Stanley’s deficiency. Oscar just had to figure out how.
He wouldn’t be cheated out of his inheritance. Not by Stanley. And most definitely not by Miss Ralston.
“I’ll find out what’s happening,” he muttered to the cold, dark night. “If I hear you’re increasing, Miss Ralston, I’ll dig and dig until I uncover the truth. You have my word on it.”
He clicked the reins and drove off.